Mist and Shadow
by Maddy Lake Deep
Summary: Frodo has amnesia, no memories of the Quest. Sam is relieved his master doesn't remember, but is this a good thing for both of them? Response to Shire hobbit's challenge 'Fire' on the Yahoo group, MagicalShire Fanfiction. Movie-verse. Please R&R!
1. The Overlook

**Title:** _Mist and Shadow_

**Author:** _Olivia Adams Smith_

**Rating:** PG

**Genre:** Angst, hurt/comfort, drama, AU

**Summary:** Frodo has amnesia, no memories of the Quest. Sam is relieved his master doesn't remember, but is this a good thing for both of them?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any character or anything else in Middle-Earth.

**Feedback:** Definitely! Let me know what you think. I always appreciate reviews and constructive criticism.

**Author's note:** _I'm back with another LotR fic. This story is also written for someone who was very dear to me and my husband; our best friend David Carpenter…teacher and LotR fan. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't know anything about LotR and writing stories I enjoy immensely. He opened my eyes to Tolkien's world that I will always cherish. He was a wonderful person who brought joy into our lives, his family, friends and those of his students. Mist and Shadow is dedicated to him._

* * *

**Chapter one:** _The Overlook_

"Sam," said Pippin as they approached the white gate of Bag End. "You're certain Frodo would want to come along?"

Sam unconfidently eyed Pippin and Merry beside him. He had known his master at times had been reclusive after the horrific and traumatic events of the Quest. But even when Frodo had preferred staying home, Sam managed to persuade him into changing his mind. At that, Samwise Gamgee shoved away the annoying doubt and his face beamed with absolute certainty to his friends. "I know Mr. Frodo has been keepin' to himself lately, but he'll want to come with us."

The sun blazed down on them, surprisingly hot for early May. Merry squinted, trying to shield the sun out of his eyes. He then cut in to say, "You haven't told us where we're going?"

"I told you, I'm keepin' it a secret until we get there." Sam pushed open the gate. Merry and Pippin followed single file behind him, up the stairs and then finally arriving at the round green door of Frodo's home. And as Sam's finger neared the bell, the door unexpectedly opened.

"Mr. Frodo?"

"Hullo, Sam, Merry, Pippin." Frodo stood in the doorway with arms crossed against his chestnut vest.

"How did you know we were--,"

"Through the window. I was taking a look at the garden and saw you coming this way. It's one of the many things I've missed about the Shire."

Sam gave Frodo a sheepish grin, not knowing what to say and wishing there was something he could do to ease his master's pain. That had been the frustrating thing. Although Frodo smiled cheerily and appeared to be doing well, Sam had known what he really felt…the suffering of wounds too deep. He despised the memories of the Quest, what it had done to Frodo and when his master was distant, what it had done to their friendship.

"_If only it never happened,_" he said silently. _"If only--," _He stopped, shifting the attention away from him and back to what Frodo had said. Smiling warmly, Sam told him, "I know, Mr. Frodo. It's why I especially worked hard to make it beautiful."

Frodo peeked outside the door. He smiled a little and stared gratefully at the flowers: Red, pink and white roses. And there were orchids, daisies, sunflowers and many others. While Frodo appeared as if lost in a pleasant daydream, Sam went on to say, "Uh, Mr. Frodo, we were wonderin' if you'd like to take a walk with us into the woods."

Pippin shoved his way cheerfully into the conversation. "It is a delightful day!"

And Merry said, "A delightful day indeed for a walk."

"Alright, you convinced me," Frodo answered. "Why waste a beautiful day by staying inside." He shut the door, followed them down the stairs, through the gate and out onto the lane.

Strolling through the woods, Frodo wondered when they would find a spot to relax. There were numerous places beneath trees for shade. Puzzled, he eyed Sam walking beside him. "When are we going to rest?"

Merry halted and stepped in front of Sam. "That's what me and Pip want to know? You kept it a secret long enough."

"What secret?" Frodo asked and arched his eyebrow at Sam. "Alright, Sam, where are we going?"

Samwise huffed and said, "We're almost there."

They continued to follow him uphill until stopping at a bank near willow trees swaying lazily in the slight breeze. Looking down, they spotted a small stream wedged between the woods where they stood and straight ahead, more trees towered proudly as if to want to touch the cloudless sky—a shade of blue topaz.

"I don't think I've ever been here before," said Pippin.

Merry added, "I can't say I have either."

They were 20 feet above the stream. Sam leaned further but careful to keep a safe distance. "I was taking my usual stroll yesterday and somehow I ended up here. I thought, it's beautiful, how did we ever miss it? It's an overlook I reckon, though I'm not sure if anyone else knows about it. Well? What do you think?"

Pippin volunteered first. "It's beautiful like you said!"

Merry nodded. "I agree! We can have picnics here."

It had taken a while before Frodo gave his opinion, for he stared at the stream as if daydreaming again, as if he still could not believe he was back in the Shire.

"Mr. Frodo?"

"It is beautiful," Frodo replied softly.

Sam was pleased he liked it and said, "We can go down to the stream."

Again they followed him down a winding path until they were now closer to the water flowing serenely over pebbles. There they sat down on the grass. Pippin had been the first to ease his furry feet into the water, and then the others had done the same.

"Sam," said Pippin amid the _splash, splash_ of his feet in the water. "Now that it's not a secret anymore, you ought to let Rosie know, eh?" He winked his eye and Sam's cheeks were no longer pink but a soft shade of crimson.

"I'm sure Rosie would love it here," said Frodo while gazing at sunlight broken into shimmering fragments above his feet under water. "And it's a wonderful place to have picnics." Sitting beside Sam he told him gratefully, "I'm glad you brought us here."

Sam gave them all a warm 'you're welcome' smile. "I knew you'd like it."

They stayed for a while in the midday sun peeking at them through leaves that were still young and some already full grown. And when the hobbits' stomachs began to beg for food, they had decided to leave, trekking up the path until they were back at the overlook. Frodo stood at the edge again and looking down. "I don't want to leave," he said solemnly.

"We'll come back, Mr. Frodo," said Sam. "Tomorrow, if it's another beautiful day."

Frodo turned to glance at his beloved Sam and his cousins. He smiled and joined them as they strode back into the woods.

In the morning, would all those in the Shire wake up to the sun? Would it decide to take a break and sleep behind a wall of clouds? Or would the sky have one of its bad days and keep everyone inside because of torrential rain? Sam pondered about it during the night and opening his eyes, a wide grin lifted his cheeks at the sight of cheery sunlight flooding his room. Lifting his head from the pillow, Sam stared at the round window. _"I promised Mr. Frodo we'd go back,_" he thought. _"And we shall."_

* * *

The hobbits returned to what was now their favorite place…the overlook. This time they bought wicker baskets filled with chicken pies, seed cakes, strawberries and shiny red apples. Relaxing beneath willow trees, they ate their lunch and enjoyed the savoring delicacy of pipeweed. All puffed on wooden pipes and blew smoke-rings that stayed round until caught and stretched in a slight breeze, and then they dissipated in the air.

Frodo laid his head back against one of the trees. Plucking the pipe out of his mouth, he said to Sam, "Have you told Rosie about this place yet?"

Sitting next to his master and before answering, Sam blew one more smoke-ring. He then said, "She doesn't know."

"What do you mean she doesn't know?"

Sitting across from them, Pippin eyed Sam with a puzzled expression and Merry leaned forward to say, "You didn't tell her?"

"I'll tell her," said Sam defensively. "And besides, I don't want to be too quick about it."

"You've already danced with her."

"But we've never been—you know—alone."

"Ahhh," Pippin replied. "You're right about that, Sam."

Frodo added, "Whenever you're ready to tell her, I'm sure she'll love it here." Smiling, he gave Sam a light pat on the shoulder and then Frodo stood onto his feet.

Sam watched the frail hobbit and wondered where he was off to until Frodo stopped at another spot near the edge. He also stood and followed his master, halting beside him. They both looked down at the stream for a moment until Sam broke the silence. "Mr. Frodo?"

"Yes, Sam?" answered Frodo, keeping his blue eyes fixed on the water.

"Have you ever thought, well--," he hesitated awkwardly then starting again. "Is there someone you fancy? I've seen you dance with many lasses and, well, I was wonderin' that's all."

"The lasses I've danced with were beautiful, but--," He looked up and eyed his best friend sadly. "I don't think I could love anyone, not now. Sam, so much has happened--," he stopped again and glanced briefly at his left hand with four fingers. His eyes then darted up to Sam. Wanting to change the subject, even if he had to repeat himself, Frodo smiled. "Whenever you're ready, tell Rosie about this place." He walked away, leaving a grieved Sam behind.

"_Samwise, you fool!"_ he thought, berating himself. _"Why did you ask him that?" _The stout hobbit sighed deeply. He then moped back to where they sat beneath the trees.

They stayed for a while longer and when it had neared evening, the hobbits gathered their picnic baskets and strolled back through the woods. There was a path that led to Bag End and when they stepped onto it, a sudden squeaking and galloping of hoofs thundered down the lane.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" shouted a young hobbit trying desperately to stop his cart with two wheels about to give way and a frightened pony refusing to halt.

Merry and Pippin stopped short, jumping backwards. Sam lunged toward his master and about to pull him back but he had been too late. They collided with the cart, bounced off and were tossed to the other side of the path. Sam hit the ground with a thud and for a moment it seemed the air had been knocked out of him while pain burned along his back. Trees spun around him. He could still hear the cart squeaking out of control until it finally crashed; then came the sound of footsteps rushing toward him. Wincing from the pain, he looked up into the concerned faces of Merry and Pippin.

"Sam?" they said in unison and then Merry said, "Are you all right?"

"No," Sam muttered. "I hurt my back." He was hoisted up in the arms of Merry and Pippin. Suddenly Sam seemed to have forgotten the pain when realizing something…

"Mr. Frodo!" His eyes frantically scanned the area until he saw Frodo's body sprawled out upon the grass. "Mr. Frodo," Sam called again. Though he had been hurt, he pushed himself onward to where Frodo lay. Merry and Pippin weren't far behind. Sam grimaced from his injury but ignored it as he gently lifted an unconscious Frodo into his arms. He noticed blood on an old tree stump and when feeling a sticky liquid on back of Frodo's head, Sam looked at his hand…more blood. "Oh no, no…Mr. Frodo!"

Sam, Merry and Pippin waited impatiently inside the parlor. At the sound of footsteps shuffling down the hall, the hobbits leapt from their seats.

Pippin quickly asked the doctor, "Is he going to be all right?"

The stout elder hobbit (even more stout than Sam) breathed and answered, "I managed to stop the bleeding and tended his head wound, but it's not merely a small injury. He may be unconscious for a while. It could be some time before he wakes up. If there are any other problems or when he wakes up, let me know as soon as possible. Oh, and Sam, make sure you get plenty of rest for your back."

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir."

After the doctor had gone, Merry and Pippin were the first to go inside Frodo's room and stood at his bedside. Sam, still achy had lagged behind until he then joined beside the two. They stared at Frodo with a white cloth bandaged securely around his head. Since the time they returned to the Shire, Sam hadn't seen Frodo look so peaceful as if…

"_No,"_ he mumbled to himself. _"You can't die. Please, Mr. Frodo, don't die."_

Sam hoped the doctor was wrong. Frodo had been unconscious for a few days and that alarmed him greatly, for his master was unable to eat or drink anything. He had been frail enough and lost more weight. His skin, deathly pale and beneath his eyes were sunken and dark. Sam never let a day go by and not sit at his bedside. He would stare at him lovingly and hold his left hand. "Mr. Frodo, please…wake up," Sam whispered. "If you don't, you'll die."

At first Sam thought it had been a trick of the brain when feeling Frodo's fingers jerk slightly. He waited to see if it happened again and to his surprise, it did. Not long after, Frodo's eyes fluttered open. "Mr. Frodo!" Sam grinned. "You're awake!"

Frodo's eyes were fully open and then he turned his head slightly to look up at Sam. He frowned as if to comprehend who sat beside him and where he was at.

Sam grew worried again. "Mr. Frodo? How are you feeling?"

"Mr. Frodo?" he replied weakly. "Is that who I am?"

Bewildered, Sam leaned closer. "Mr. Frodo is your name and it's me, your Sam."

Frodo squinted. "Sam? You don't look familiar to me, nor do I know who I am."

Sam added, "Do you know where you are? It's your home, Bag End."

"Nothing," said an irritated Frodo. "Nothing looks familiar." He touched his head, feeling the bandages and suddenly, when looking at his four fingers, his eyes widened with fear and confusion. "What happened to my hand?"

At that, Sam's own fear had escalated and with an alarmed expression he said, "You don't remember…anything?"

**TBC**


	2. Who's Mr Frodo?

**Chapter two:** _Who's Mr. Frodo?_

"Amnesia?" said Pippin, rather bewildered.

Sam did not answer. He hung his head, sitting across from Merry and Pippin at the kitchen table of Frodo's home. Quiet and perturbed he was at the doctor's grave news. Sam longed for a needed break from his racing thoughts, but they insisted on prodding him about the conversation he had earlier with the doctor…

"_**Will his memory come back?" **_

"_**It can, but it's possible he may never remember."**_

Pippin shook his head. "I don't believe this is happening."

Shoved back to the present, Sam lifted his head a little but his eyes still remained fixed upon the table. "It was a mistake."

Merry furrowed his eyebrows. "What was a mistake?"

"Going to the overlook. If we hadn't gone, Mr. Frodo would be all right."

"Sam, you'll do no good for Frodo blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault."

Sam breathed and let out a deep, frustrated sigh. He finally pushed himself to make eye contact with his friends. "Well, we ought to go see how he's feeling."

They left the kitchen and strode down the hall until stopping at Frodo's bedroom door. Sam knocked twice.

"Come in," came Frodo's soft voice from inside the room.

Sam gently opened the door to see Frodo without the bandages on his head, for it had been a few weeks since the accident and now his master was able to dress himself and stand near the window…what he was doing at the moment. "Good-day, Mister—uh," Sam faltered, not knowing if he should even say the name forgotten. "Good-day, sir."

Frodo turned away from the window. Slowly, reluctantly, he approached them then stopping at a safe distance. "What are your names again?"

The three hobbits eyed one another to see who would volunteer first, and then Merry stepped forward. "I'm Meridoc Brandybuck…most call me Merry."

Pippin had decided to go next. "I'm Peregrin Took…Pippin for short. Merry and I—we're your cousins."

"Cousins?"

"Yes."

Confused, Frodo's eyes shifted uneasily to Sam. "And you're…Gamgee?"

"Yes, sir," said Sam awkwardly. "Sam Gamgee."

"You're the one who calls me, Mr. Frodo. Who is he?"

"He's you."

"But why do you call me, sir and mister?"

"It's the proper thing to say to someone you work for."

Puzzled again, Frodo said, "You work for me?"

"I'm your gardener."

Pippin blurted, "He worked for your Uncle Bilbo and--,"

Sam poked Took with his elbow. Hoping Frodo hadn't heard, he mumbled to Pippin, "Don't be so hasty!"

Frodo began to pace the room. He then stopped to say, "I have an Uncle Bilbo? Where is he?"

Sam said, "He—uh, he's gone away."

"Gone away where?"

Sam wanted to shove Pippin again. He couldn't tell Frodo that Bilbo was in Rivendell with the elves. Just mentioning elves would certainly had been a shock; too much, too soon for Frodo to hear. "He—he's gone away on a short journey."

"A short journey?"

"But he'll be back soon." Sam hated to lie. He glanced uncomfortably at Merry and Pippin.

Frodo eyed them suspiciously and then out of frustration, he slumped down onto the bed. "I'm so confused. I want to remember who I am and all of you, but every time I try, I cannot." He sighed and added, "I need to be alone."

"Alright, Mr. Frodo."

"I rather you not call me that or sir."

"Then what should we call you?"

Frodo was lost in thought momentarily about what Sam asked. He sighed again and simply replied, "Frodo."

"Alright," said Sam. "No mister or sir. I'll just call you Frodo. Well, we're leaving now. You need to get more rest."

Sam sadly followed Merry and Pippin toward the door and just as he was about to shut it…

"Sam?"

The stout hobbit swung the door open. "Yes, Mister—I mean, Frodo," he said excitedly, hoping his master remembered something.

"I need to talk to you—alone."

Sam wondered why Frodo wanted to talk to him alone. Nevertheless, he shut the door and sat beside his friend.

Frodo looked down at his four fingers. "You never told me what happened to my hand."

Sam wished it had been something else Frodo wanted to discuss, anything but that. He hated awkward moments like the 'Bilbo' conversation and this time he could not lie again. "Frodo, you need to get your rest." He grimaced at having to call him 'Frodo' It just didn't sound right to him.

"Before I rest, I need to know what happened to my hand. I look at it and—it frightens me. I feel odd having only four fingers and can't remember what happened!"

Sam breathed and screamed silently at the helplessness overwhelming him. "It's best you don't talk about all this now. You really need to rest."

Frodo gave Sam another suspicious glance. "You know what happened. Why are you hiding it from me?"

"I want to tell you everything, but I don't want you feelin' worse."

Frodo's solemn eyes fell back to his hand. "Why do I fear something terrible has happened and that's why you don't want to tell me?"

"It's not good to think about this now. Please, Frodo, get some rest. If you need the doctor, I'll--,"

"No, I'm all right. All I need is to rest like you said."

Sam nodded. He left Frodo's side when heading for the door again…

"Sam?"

He hesitated and turned around. "Yes?"

"I don't remember you, and yet I feel we were very close. Can you at least tell me if that's true?"

Sam smiled warmly. He then said, "It's true." At that, Sam left, shutting the door behind him and leaving a troubled Frodo alone.

* * *

Evening had visited the Shire once again. Before going home, Merry and Pippin stayed at Sam's home discussing what had been still a shock—Frodo's amnesia. Sitting in chairs near the sleeping hearth, Merry rambled at the moment.

"You didn't tell him what happened to his hand?"

"No," said Sam, leaning forward with his elbows resting on both armrests.

"Good. He mustn't know about that."

"I feel bad about not telling Mr. Frodo. It's troubling him, not only his hand but everything he can't remember, though he seems to recall our friendship a little, well, more of a feeling he said."

Pippin jumped in to say, "Well, that's a good sign isn't it?"

Sam answered, "I want to hope it is."

Merry asked, "What of the Quest? Does he remember anything about it?"

Sam nodded. He plopped back against the chair and turned his head to glance at Merry and Pippin sitting nearby. "Mr. Frodo told me he feels like something terrible happened to his hand. I reckon he may be feeling more but that's it really, just a feeling."

And now Pippin sat forward, cradling his chin upon his hand. "I was thinking…what if he doesn't remember the Quest at all? Shouldn't it be a good thing after all that's happened to him?"

Merry pondered for a moment until saying, "Hmm…maybe it would be a good thing. His nightmares will go away because he won't remember."

Sam shook his head and sighed deeply. "We're like strangers to him. I can see it in his eyes he doesn't trust us. How is this amnesia a good thing for him? He's already been asking questions about his hand? And don't forget the scar he has from the Witch-king's blade. I'm sure he'll wonder about that, too."

Suddenly Merry and Pippin were silent. Sam had made no attempt to add anything else. They sat together, lost in deep thought. The only words uttered were those in Sam's mind—the words Merry had voiced moments ago…

"_**Hmm…maybe it would be a good thing. His nightmares will go away because he won't remember."**_

Sam said to himself, _"Will it be a good thing for Mr. Frodo?"_

* * *

After morning had come and gone; first and second breakfast had been eaten, Sam opened the door to his home and invited Frodo inside.

"So," said Frodo while his water-blue eyes meandered around the parlor. "This is Bagshot Row?"

"Yes it is," Sam replied and as he shut the door, he kept careful eyes on Frodo.

Frodo stopped short and spun around.

"What is it, Mr. Frodo?" Sam replied instinctively. He then remembered his master was not comfortable with 'Mr. Frodo' and said with a sigh, "I mean, Frodo."

"I—I thought something looked familiar but--," Frodo shook his head, flustered about his memory loss. He chose not to ponder about it no further and talk about something else. "I heard Merry and Pippin talk about a lass—Rosie is her name?"

Sam nodded shyly. He twined nervous fingers around suspenders that crossed down and over his white billowy shirt. "She's a barmaid at the Green Dragon Inn."

Frodo continued, "From what I've heard them say, you're quite fond of her."

Sam's cheeks morphed to a shade of crimson again and his response had been only a nod.

"Is there anyone that I--," Frodo halted and waited for Sam's answer.

"No," Sam barely uttered.

Frodo winced. At first Sam thought his reaction was of disappointment until he noted Frodo had rubbed an area near his left shoulder.

"I get a strange tingling here. I've felt it ever since the accident, though I do not recall being in an accident or hurting myself here. The doctor tended my head wound but he never told me about a wound anywhere else.

"_How can this be a good thing?"_ Sam grumbled to himself. _"Poor Mr. Frodo not remembering what's happened and what can I do? What can I say?"_

"Sam?"

"Huh?" he answered rather startled.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm concerned about you is all."

Frodo smiled warmly. "I cannot remember our friendship but you're very kind, and that's why I believe we were friends. I wish I can remember."

Sam smiled back. "Don't worry. One day it'll all come back to you, that's what I'm hoping." Sam told him that and yet again he spoke silently. _"I wish you could remember our friendship, only that and nothin' else."_ He mentally shoved himself back to the conversation and added cheerfully, "Since you asked about Rosie, why don't you come along with me, Merry and Pippin to the Green Dragon tonight. You can meet her."

"That sounds like a splendid idea--," Frodo hesitated. His eyes dropped briefly to his four fingers. "No, I can't."

Sam saw his master glance at his hand. Sorrow overwhelmed him again. "I understand. Well, whenever you're ready you're always welcome to come along." He watched Frodo standing in front of him with a frown of indecision on his face. And then Frodo said…

"I'll go, but if anyone asks what happened to my hand, I'll tell them I was in an accident."

And that worried Sam, for he hoped no one (especially those hobbit folk who were nosey like Lobelia) would talk to Frodo about his hand or anything else.

* * *

It had been a warm and pleasant night for drinking and dancing at the Green Dragon. It seemed the crowd was in good spirits when Sam walked inside with his friends. And what hobbit wouldn't be cheery with the anticipation of summer only a few weeks away. Amid the boisterous crowd, Sam wondered if any table would be available, and then his eyes brightened when spotting a corner table in the back. They weaved their way through the crowd and sat down (not the best table since it was far away from the bar but at least they were able to sit somewhere). Sam watched his master who sat across the table. He noted his excitement about the inn, what he often expressed before the Quest, and after, Frodo seemed to pretend he had been happy. Now that happiness returned, as if the past events had never happened. Well, in Frodo's mind, that is exactly how it was…it never happened. And again Sam worried Frodo would soon recall something.

Rosie stopped by the table with four pints sitting on a round serving tray. Sam looked up, taking in her smile he thought so warm and her ruffled powder blue dress he thought so beautiful. The first hobbit she smiled at had been Sam. It was a different smile…one that told the gardener she was happy to see him. He of course smiled back shyly while taking the tall mug off the tray. When Frodo reached for his pint, Rosie said…

"Hullo, Mr. Frodo."

"Hullo," said Frodo uneasily as he set the mug down in front of him.

After she left the table, Pippin who sat beside Frodo had leaned closer and whispered, "You don't remember anything about Rosie?"

Frodo shook his head. "I thought I would remember, but—nothing." He then added, "She is beautiful," he said, glancing at Sam.

Sam grinned modestly. "That she is indeed."

When they were done with their pints, they joined other hobbits in a jaunty dance. Sam danced with Rosie. Merry and Pippin met two lasses and after introducing themselves, they also danced. Sam was ecstatic to see Frodo hopping around with a lass often seen at the Market. This had been the first time Frodo danced with anyone since leaving the Shire. That's what he wanted, for Frodo to be happy and it pleased him deeply to see his master smiling and having a great time. But Sam's own smile quickly faded when he saw the lass being pulled away from Frodo by her father.

"You've danced enough!" her father shouted. "And I don't want you dancing with anyone who goes off on one of those adventures. Mr. Frodo is cracked like his Uncle Bilbo y'know. And didn't you see he only has four fingers?"

Sam found himself seething at the elder hobbit but he had no time to tell him what he wanted to say. At that moment, Frodo rushed out of the inn.

"Rosie," said a frantic Sam. "I'm sorry but, well, it's Mr. Frodo--,"

"I know he's not well after the accident," she replied sympathetically. "Go after him and make sure he's all right."

At that, Sam hurried out of the inn and saw Frodo standing beneath one of the lanterns swinging slightly in the gentle breeze. It seemed he was headed for the cart but hesitated there instead.

"Frodo?"

He slowly turned and faced Sam. In the soft lamp light, his face had been marred with confusion, anger and sadness. "What do you want?" he grumbled irritably.

"I only wanted to see if you were all right?"

"Do I look _all right_?" Frodo's eyes narrowed and again he stared suspiciously at Sam. "He said I went off on some adventure, and I'm cracked like my Uncle Bilbo. You told me my uncle had gone away and I must have done the same. Where did I go and why would I leave?"

Sam feared what had happened and let out a frustrated sigh. "Frodo, it's best you don't think about it."

"Why? You, Merry and Pippin know something and you're not telling me."

Sam frowned and despised the awkward situation he was in. Frodo went on. "I want to go home," he said angrily. "You can stay if you want."

"No. I've had enough pints and dancing for tonight. I'm going home, too."

* * *

During the night, Frodo had undressed into his night shirt and sat on the edge of the bed. He wondered if he would be able to sleep after what happened at the Green Dragon. _"An adventure?"_ he thought. _"Where did I go? Where is my uncle?"_ Frodo tried to forget the elder hobbit's words that stung like the scar on his left shoulder.

"_**Didn't you see he has only four fingers?"**_

Frodo gazed at his hand and though he didn't mention the scar to Sam, he had seen it when getting dressed earlier. Frodo thought if he told Sam about the tingling, he would say something but again, Sam chose to be vague. _"What is going on?"_

Exhausted mentally, Frodo wanted to remember and yet he wondered if it was a good thing. Maybe Sam is right…

"_**It's best you don't think about it."**_

Frodo walked over to the lantern and before blowing it out, he hesitated. _"What is this?"_ he wondered about the chain that lay on his desk. Frodo picked it up and held it above the fire-light. A white gem dangled at the bottom and when caught in the light, it sparkled softly. And then, a sudden thing had happened to Frodo. Instead of the white gem, a golden ring glowed in the light. He had put on his clothes worn earlier, though he didn't remember doing so. He didn't remember leaving his bedroom and standing by the hearth, but there he was. Behind him in the short distance, a deep and grave voice muttered…

"_**There is only one way: to find the Cracks of Doom in the depths of Orodruin, the Fire-mountain, and cast the ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it, to put it beyond the grasp of the enemy for ever…"**_

Frodo held the ring closer and as his eyes studied it intently, he saw a horrific sight—a blazing fire in the shape of an eye, drawing him closer, closer…

The chain fell with a faint clank onto the floor. Frodo fell back against the bedroom desk; clad in his night shirt again. His heart raced and his chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm. As he bent over the chain, his shaky fingers reached for the white gem. Frodo grasped it in his hand, stared at it frightfully and at the moment, running out into the night clad only in his night shirt had been the furthest thing from his mind. He kept running until stopping at Sam's home and pounding his fist on the door.

The door flung open and there stood a bewildered Sam in his night shirt. "Mister—I mean, Frodo. What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you!"

"Come in."

Frodo rushed into the dimly-lit parlor and spun around to face a worried Sam. Before he gave the gardener a chance to say anything, he shouted frightfully, "What is this?" Frodo opened his hand and there lay the chain. "Who gave it to me?"

Sam's lips parted but he hesitated from saying what he couldn't tell Frodo.

"Sam," Frodo demanded sternly. "You must tell me."

"It's just a chain with a little gem on it is all."

Frodo nodded. "No. When I held it, in my mind it turned into something else…a gold ring. Something happened to me…I don't understand it. I saw what looked like an eye watching me, and fire. What is this, Sam?"

And all Sam could utter silently was, _"I don't want you to remember."_

**TBC**


	3. Mist, shadows and fire

**A/N: **At the end, dialogue in italics is from another story, "First Impressions"

**Chapter three:** _Mist, shadows and fire_

Sam plopped down onto a chair by the hearth. Frodo also sat down beside him.

"Sam?"

The gardener feared what he had to say to Frodo. Besides not wanting him to remember, Sam had known it all would be overwhelming for his master. But he had to tell him something, and so Sam began with the ring. After that, he told him the rest. Once Sam finished, he noted confusion and fear on his master's face.

"Frodo? Is any of it familiar?"

Frodo scrunched his face while trying to remember. "I see things as if through a mist, or they're like shadows haunting me. What you've said, it sounds horrible. I'm not sure if I want to remember."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you. But I understand you wanted to know what's goin' on because of the ring."

"I'm tired," said Frodo. He stood from the chair and sadly looked down at Sam. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Sam answered softly. When Frodo had gone, Sam stayed seated in the chair. Staring out into the parlor, he could not stop worrying about his master. A few days ago, Frodo was happy, but Sam feared it wouldn't be for long once he started to remember, even if the memories weren't clear. And at the moment, Sam had wished he could forget. He wished the memories stopped assaulting him. Sam shut his eyes, squeezing them tight; his hands gripped the armrests. Suddenly, he was able to stop their assault by thinking about the Shire…and Rosie. Sam opened his eyes. He let out a deep breath. Fear and tension left him and now he sat calmly. Sam wanted to cry. Instead, the emotionally exhausted hobbit's face fell onto his hands.

* * *

Frodo moped into his room and slumped down in a chair at his desk. Although he was tired, he didn't go to bed yet. He preferred to lay his head upon the desk and stare at the soothing fire-light inside the lantern beside him. Frodo recalled what he told Sam…

"_**I'm not sure if I want to remember."**_

He kept his eyes steady on the flame as long as he could. Sleep had come for him and despite his efforts to fight it; Frodo surrendered to sleep that took him away into the darkness. Every now and again, his turned his face from the left to the right, sleeping restlessly. Frodo's elbow nudged the lantern that had been moved to the edge until it fell and plummeted to the floor. The lantern cracked. Fragments of glass shimmered in the moonlight, and then something else began to glow. Flames rolled out across the floor. Quickly and angrily, they morphed into bigger flames that targeted Frodo's bed. First the bed post and then they spread across the linens.

Frodo woke to an acrid smell that wafted into his nostrils. His eyes blinked open; still groggy and disoriented, he didn't know whether he was actually awake or dreaming. It had taken a few minutes until his senses were alert to what was happening. The smell now unbearable and suffocating. His eyes were wide with shock and fright at what he saw…

Fire.

Frodo leaped from the chair. Terrified, he fell back against the wall, coughing and gasping desperately for much needed air. Smoke swirled furiously and the monstrous flames crackled along the walls and ceiling. Suddenly Frodo found himself back inside Mount Doom, standing on the edge of a cliff and holding the gold ring above a stream of lava. He could hear Sam shouting behind him in the distance, shouting…

"_**Throw it!"**_

He wanted to keep the precious ring, sliding it onto his finger, but Smegol also wanted the ring even if it meant biting Frodo's finger off to get it. Sam didn't tell him that part. Now it all made sense as to why he only had four fingers. They were outside Mount Doom. The ring was destroyed and they laid together on a rock while lava spewed all around them. He glanced at Sam beside him, his gardener and loyal friend. Sam! Other memories flashed in his mind…Merry and Pippin, his cousins. Uncle Bilbo, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and everyone else he knew. Everything about the Quest was no longer a mist or shadows. Yes, the horrifying journey had ended and now Frodo feared for his life again.

"_I have to get out,"_ he shouted to himself. Unfortunately the window was blocked by fire. The door had been the only way out. Frodo slowly moved along the wall, keeping his eyes on the flames. His hand groped for the knob but before he could grasp it, smoke overwhelmed Frodo. He slid down against the door and onto the floor.

"Help--," he managed to say and slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sam peeled back the covers and as he was about to get in bed, he sniffed.

Smoke.

He wondered where it was coming from. Was it inside his home? Sam left his room and had gone out into the kitchen. He then walked inside the parlor, cautiously looking around. Nothing. He neared the front door and the smell grew stronger. Opening it, he hadn't been relieved that the fire wasn't in his home. A fire burned somewhere and it concerned Sam greatly. He hurried out into the warm night air, following the heavy scent of smoke that led him to Bag End. Sam's hairy feet came to a halt. His eyes wide and his mouth open at the sight of Frodo's smial on fire. There were a few hobbits standing outside, watching and frightened until Sam shouted…

"Get water!"

There had been no hesitation. Sam jerked the gate open and rushed up to the burning smial. He noticed the fire hadn't yet spread. For the moment, it appeared to be isolated in one spot—Frodo's bedroom. Sam pummeled his fist three times against the round door. "Mr. Frodo!" Hearing no answer, a frantic Sam ran over to the half-open window. He opened it wider, climbed through and once inside, Sam coughed and sputtered from smoke smothering each bit of oxygen, and soon there would be nothing left if he didn't hurry. "Mr—Frodo!" Sam stumbled through the parlor. His teary eyes stung and his lungs begged for air, but Sam had to go on. He stopped at the bedroom door and turning the knob, Sam wondered why the door wouldn't open all the way, as if something blocked it. He leaned all his weight against it until the door opened wide enough for him to see an unconscious Frodo on the floor. "Mr. Frodo!"

Suddenly, flames shot out from above the door, startling Sam who stumbled backwards. The fire began to spread. He had to get Frodo out. Sam crawled on the floor as the fire raged above him. He grabbed hold of Frodo's hand and mustering all his strength, Sam pulled Frodo out of the room. Assaulted with dizziness, he refused to let himself faint.

"_Get up!"_ he screamed inwardly.

Ahead, Sam could see the front door. Determined to get there, he hoisted Frodo into his arms. Walking unsteadily to the door, he opened it and hurried out. When he had been a safe distance from the smial, Sam collapsed onto the ground with Frodo in his arms. More hobbits came to help, carrying buckets of water from the well. They rushed past them and onward to Frodo's home.

"Sam!" he heard the Gaffer shout while his dad ran towards him. Sam gasped for air and when the Gaffer called him again, his name and everything else had blurred. And like Frodo, he fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

Frodo slowly opened his eyes. At first he was unsure of his surroundings and who sat in a chair beside him; then he remembered.

"Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo smiled and softly said, "Sam." He suddenly bolted upright from the pillow. "The fire!"

"You're okay, now. I got you out of there. You're safe in my home."

Relieved, Frodo rested his head back onto the pillow. "Sam, I remember you."

Sam's eyes widened. "You do? That's good, Mr. Frodo!" He was happy Frodo remembered who he was, and yet his heart sank at the thought of his master haunted again by the memories…so many wounds.

Frodo began, "It was the fire. I remember feeling like I was trapped in my room and then it all came back to me. Sam, is my home all right?"

"There's nothing left of it."

Frodo sadly turned his face away from Sam and gazed at warm sunlight pouring in through the window.

"Mr. Frodo, you can stay here."

Frodo looked at him again. "Thank you, Sam.

Sam smiled and placed his hand on Frodo's left arm, squeezing it gently. The stout hobbit stopped smiling when Frodo had disappeared from the bed. Sam squinted his eyes in confusion, and then he realized what he saw had been a memory. "Mr. Frodo," he whispered, swallowing hard and straining back his tears. "Please, come back."

"Sam."

He didn't turn at the sound of Rosie's voice. Despite his silence, Rosie entered what was once Frodo's room and stood beside her husband. "I know you didn't want him to remember, and then everything would've been like it was before the Quest. He would still be here now. But some things are meant to be. It was meant for him to go to the Grey Havens. It's best for him."

Sam rose from the chair and circled his arms around Rosie. He hugged her tightly and instead of fighting the tears, he let them stream down his cheeks.

While Rosie cooked dinner, Sam had taken a walk to Bag End. After the fire, which had happened a few years ago, another smial was built. He stood in front of the hobbit hole that hadn't been much different from Frodo's home, except for the orange door. The garden was well tended with a brilliant display of roses, orchids, gardenias and other various flowers. Tears seeped into Sam's eyes again and he managed a smile. He would never forget when they first met…

_Frodo stood on the steps while Sam knelt down in the bare garden. The gardener said, "I'll start working on it right away, planting seeds and all. Soon it'll be time for the flowers to bloom. I'll start tomorrow if you like?"_

"_Tomorrow will be fine." Frodo thanked him with a warm smile._

_Sam trotted back up to the smial and then he stopped a few steps down from where Frodo stood. He had to think of something to start another conversation. "Your Uncle Bilbo is a good cook. I love chicken stew and roast chicken."_

"_He told me you're a good cook, too."_

_Struggling with what to say next, the gardener uttered, "Mr. Baggins is very kind."_

"_It sounds to me like you don't believe my uncle, that you really are a good cook."_

"_Well--," Sam paused timidly. He shrugged his shoulders and peeked down at the steps."_

_Frodo went on to say, "I bet you can cook a delicious roast chicken."_

"_I'll try." Sam looked up at his new friend. "One day, Mr. Frodo. One day."_

**End**


End file.
